Silently, we are moving to our zen spaces. We are moving backwards, in slow motion, wrapping up our things. We are taking nothing with us. Not our worries and insecurities. Not even memories because we don’t know what they might spark off.

When we reach there, we sit cross legged and quiet. We breathe in thin, cold air. We try and think about nothing. It’s possibly the most difficult thing we've ever had to do. In the quiet room, bursting at its seams with thoughts that people are trying to avoid but are pondering on in the process, we shut our eyes and hold our breaths. We tried concentrating on something neutral like water, but it didn’t work.

By the end of it, there is no peace but a headache from all the effort of emptying out thoughts. We crawled back, filled with shame, to our worries and fears and memories. We sat amidst them and indulged, because it was the easier option.